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An Interview With matt robinson

by matt robinson

AR: Let's start with these lines from your poem "picture postcard seagull,peggy's cove":

                i want to convey to him, to let him know, that
even in my absence (perhaps all the more so) i, too, know
		
		
something of the suggestive properties of a location, of
a situation.

In one way, this can be read as a kind of mission statement for poetry, if not art in general. What "suggestive properties" - whether it be of aperson, place, thing - make a poem happen? From where does a poem begin foryou?

robinson: The simple answer to the last part of that question—from where does a poem begin—is that it or they begin with any number of things. That is, it's usually an idea—a simple concept, or maybe something bigger and more complicated—or, more often than not, a word or phrase or even a visual image.

I can say that up to this point I rarely find myself starting poems based on an aural stimulus; sound, possibly because I've lost a bit of my hearing from attending too many loud punk shows, doesn't seem to be a place where I begin. That said, I try, in some ways if the poem seems to call for it, to include an aural component. And, and I think this is important to both performance poets and those more concerned with the page like me, I always reach a point in the writing/editing process where the poem has to be read aloud and then be further revised. The aural scansion of the poem—its flow, and its ability to work as a sonic unit, albeit later in the creative process—is extremely important to me... more so now than ever. So, it's basically and predominantly in language—in its intricacies and interplay—and/or in the visual world that a poem usually begins for me. In constant interaction with the mental space which I'm in at that very moment or moments.

As for 'suggestive properties', hmmmm...

I think, whether consciously or not, I'm drawn to the seemingly normal or the slightly odd. The fantastic also sometimes grabs me, as I think is the case with most people—it's hard to resist. As well, I've noticed that the fragmented, the breaking, broken and disheveled aspects of things often catch my attention. But, most importantly, as far as I can tell, it's tension—the possibility of a tension or tensions—in a thing, a person, a place, or a situation that opens it up for poetic investigation, exploration, and refraction in my books. Conflict (and I think of tensions in many ways as kinds—not always straight out, but kinds nonetheless—of conflict) creates, or is of itself, a sort or energy. Poetry needs and in turns creates energy, so that's important.

Of course, all this might be a load of bull... writers are often not the best folks to speak to about writing.

AR: Which punk shows?

robinson: To say 'punk shows' was probably misleading. More what used to be known asalternative, but that's so hackneyed right now I try to avoid the term... maybe altrawk is a better one. That said, a lot of smaller local stuff in my hometown of Halifax... bands like Eric's Trip (ridiculously loud) and Sloan, Jale, Thrush Hermit, and Trike, as well as other bands that would come by for festivals, like the Doughboys and Scarce... that sort of thing. The punk itself was limited to bands like Chixdiggit and others.

Incidentally, I'm a pretty big fan of some other bands I've never gotten to see live... Superchunk, The Promise Ring, The Pixies (though that'll never happen now...)

AR: Back to your poetry, two details prevalent in your work: lower-case letters and the use of white space. Would you mind discussing that a bit?

robinson: Well, the white space and the movement around the page of the text, ismostly to let the language breath, to allow it to assert itself inparticular ways. For me, poetry is intensely concerned with not only sound,diction, and vocabulary, but also especially with line breaks and the visualappearance of the poems on the page. Prose poetry certainly has a place, andI write prose poems—in fact, I often take poems I write and work themthrough several different physical arrangements and shapes, including prosepoem form (with very distinct margins)— but I do find myself very, veryoccupied by the breaking of lines in new ways. When I lead creative writingworkshops with beginning writers, one of the things I like to concentrate onis different ways of breaking lines. The end and beginning of lines, as wellas the positioning of their margins allows you to have the text as a wholeenhance or detract from a poem's primary movement. It can reinforce thetext, or even create a sort of tension. By having a lot of white space, I also find the words and phrases and lines themselves are more available forconsumption in those very units. A long poem poem, for me, often loses theintricacies of individual lines and line breaks in its wholeness. Withcouplets or single lines in use, the white space, the free room on the page,allows the readers' eyes to really identify some things they may not havenoticed before.

The lower-case thing is something I get a lot—and I do mean a lot—of questions about. There's a lot that goes into that decision, although, atthis point in my writing, it's almost become a regular aspect to it. That said, here goes...

First off, I have been mildly influenced by writers like cummings, but that's actually not why I write with lower-case. (That's usually the first area people ask about.)

It actually has a lot more to do with writing process. I jot down ideas andinitial bits of poems by hand (in pen or pencil) on sheets of paper or innotebooks. And since I was in high school my notes (in a sort of blockprinting) have always been lower-case. I don't know why, actually. So when Ithen get to the point after a draft or two by hand that I type the poemsinto a computer, I just always leave them in that form. Most importantly, however, the reasoning behind not making changes after thefact to an upper-case poetry (because I do punctuate fully), has a lot todo, AGAIN, with line units and line breaks and white space. As I saidbefore, I want my poetry to work not only as a whole poem, but also on atleast two other, important, levels: the syntactical/grammatical level (thesentences themselves as they wind about the various lines and stanzas) andthe line unit. Since often my sentences end mid-line, I find the Intrusion(as I call it) of a capital letter mid-line breaks up the flow of the lineunit. To capitalize the word 'Another' at the start of a sentence mid-linehas the same sort of jarring visual effect for me as would a giant redwoodtree in the middle of a vast prairie. It becomes too much of a focus to mymind, and so to keep the focus on both (syntactical/grammatical & line units)as equal as possible, I choose to fully punctuate but not use caps...

AR: I didn't want to mention cummings —I just assumed you get that quite abit. But, since his name is now on the table, there are at least two camps regarding cummings: those who appreciate and find value in his work, and those who suspect he would have been nothing without the invention of the typewriter. Certainly, there are more views, but what are your thoughts oncummings and his place in literary history?

robinson: The opinions on cummings are certainly varied, and in my experience, quite strong. I think, rather blandly I'm afraid, that I fall somewhere in the middle. He was certainly innovative and went a long way—especially in terms of creating a certain kind of poetic space—in opening up poetry on the page and in the literary imagination of a generation (and following ones). I always like to consider the gleam in people's eyes, the confusion on their brows, whatever their reaction when they first come across cummings after years of Frost and Shakespeare. That reaction—the response to his work, whether positive or negative—says to me that he's important.

As for him being nothing without the typewriter: perhaps. But he took the technology in a direction that was new. People will be saying much the same thing about the Flash/multimedia poets that are popping up now. Every poet, to be 'great'—whatever that means— has to involve themselves somehow in their time and place and space.... cummings did that ... had he avoided it, who knows...

Also worth considering is where any writer would be without the advent of the printing press—my guess is certainly a more aural place; and where would good ole Shakespeare have been without the creation of a physical stage?Cummings shouldn't be dismissed in my view, but I don't know that he's worthy of unabashed praise either. He's interesting, sometimes arresting, and that's enough for me. That's a lot of what poets should try to be.

AR: I'm glad you mentioned multimedia and development tools such as Flash-- the world has come a long way since the typewriter and the printingpress. Where do you see poetry going in the next twenty or thirtyyears, and what kind of role, if any, will the evolving technology of ourtimes play?

robinson: Well, first off, while the technology is certain to affect things, I think a lot of where poetry goes will have nothing to do with the technology. Poetry will continue in a similar vein, in some ways; it always has—and hopefully always will.

But the technology: the internet, all the software, eBooks, it will all have a definite effect. What I don't see in the near future is the disappearance of the 'book' as object/artifact. It will continue, if only (and I believe it will still be big bigger than this in thirty years) fetish object or collector's item.

Of course, what you may see is a further splintering of the genre/art. Just as now, where you have performance poets often considered separately from more page-oriented poets, you could very well have the 'flash poets' or the 'multi-media school' and their supporters become more concerned with their specific niche. That could be a good or a bad thing —I'll lean towards thinking it'll be good.

As well, the technology certainly allows for a wider audience, as evidenced by the proliferation of poetry on the internet, and the attendant improvement in online journals and forums. The development will only continue; or, that's what seems to be the case.

For me, people reading and writing is still the most important thing.

© The Alsop Review